Misrouted
by bluejay
Summary: Something's wrong in the financial side of Batman Inc. Bruce decides to root it out, but trouble gets in the way.
1. Dick

A/N: Based on a plot bunny Huffy from the Bludhaven mailing list gave me. I think it was supposed to be light-hearted but the bunny got serious.

"Wayne party to see you, sir." The secretary poked her head into the office to announce their arrival. There was a muffled response then the girl slid back out and gestured for them to enter.

As usual, Dick let Bruce go first. It had become habit for him to follow where the Bat led, even through his worst nightmares – and even though he's become Batman himself. Despite having two Batmen, you just know which one you're referring to when you say 'The Bat.'

"Mr. Wayne!" Wilbur Dernell stepped forward to shake their hands. "A pleasure to see you again. And this must be...?"

"My son, Richard."

"Pleased to meet you, Richard." He similarly shook Dick's hand then gestured for them to take a seat. "Now, what brings you to my humble office?"

Dick let Bruce set the pace of their discussion. The bank executive was formerly an employee of Wayne Enterprises after all. "Serious business, I'm afraid. I take it you've heard of my latest venture?"

"Batman, Inc? Who in Gotham hasn't?" Dernell chuckled.

"Well, I just found out some of the Batman Inc funds are being...diverted."

"Oh?" Dernell leaned forward, face carefully bland.

"We held an investigation, of course." Bruce's eyes narrowed. "And we traced the problem to this bank."

"I can assure you, this bank holds the highest-"

Bruce cut him off with a raised hand. "I'm sure you have safeguards in place to prevent such a thing, but...it still happened. I'd like to know how."

Dick grinned inwardly at hearing the Bat-voice. It always amused him to hear the Bat coming from the Bruce Wayne face. It's never failed to throw hapless executives off-guard.

Like it was doing to Dernell now.

The man nervously fussed with the cuffs on his suit as he stammered, "We...uhh, we can hold a thorough investigation into the matter. I'm sure this can be resolved easily."

"I'd still like to know how you will manage this investigation. I've already spoken with the various Vice-Presidents and they all agree this office has the final say-so with regards to approving second-endorsed checks."

"Oh yes, I do have the authority to approve such...things. But I have made certain the checks I approve are not made with misrepresentation-"

"Try again," Dick spoke up, tossing a handful of journal print-outs and scans on the desk, all certified by the Bank President himself. The scans were of the misrouted checks all bearing the proper designations of various Wayne holdings while the print-outs contained the highlighted transactions of those same checks being deposited into an unknown account.

"Care to explain these, Mr. Dernell?" Bruce said quietly.

The bank executive leafed through the pages, his face betraying nothing. Dick felt himself frowning as an alarm clicked in his head.

"I see you have quite a thorough investigation, Mr. Wayne." Dernell sighed and set down the papers, nervousness gone. Dick could hear those alarm bells clanging in his head now. "While I do not doubt the truthfulness of this evidence, I will however, doubt that you gained these inside of the law? Bank transactions are protected against improper dissemination, of course."

Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Well, about that. You see, I asked my friend, Commissioner Gordon, to look into the matter for me. But when I found out who was suspect, I asked if I could talk to you first. I thought this might be a misunderstanding of sorts."

"I see." Dernell smiled and Dick tensed himself to be ready for...well, anything. "I'm afraid this isn't Wayne Enterprises, and I'm no longer one of your employees, Mr. Wayne. As I'm sure you'll find."

The door burst open and armed men in suits quickly surrounded them. Dick inwardly cursed and remained still.

"What are you planning to gain from this?" Bruce's tone was dangerously calm. It meant he was keeping his anger in check for a better opportunity to unleash it.

"Oh, I won't hold you here for long." Dernell turned his gaze to Dick. "Stand up and move away from Mr. Wayne."

Dick complied warily. He knew as long as Dernell held the upper hand, it was better for them if he did as he was told. But as he went, he discreetly pressed a tiny button on his wristwatch; pretending he was merely adjusting it.

"That's far enough."

Dick stopped where he was and realized he was closer to Dernell than Bruce. The alarm bells were practically screaming in his head now.

"Good. Now turn around and face your father."

His back was itching at the _enemy's_ presence behind him. He caught and held Bruce's gaze. He shook his right hand – the one with the wristwatch – to tell Bruce of what he'd done.

The lines around his adoptive father's eyes softened and he gave an imperceptible nod. _Message delivered._

Then Dernell was speaking again. "If you must know, Mr. Wayne, the checks have been deposited to an anonymous account held by Lenore Group. Oh, do not worry." The bank executive chuckled. "I have no wish to kill you yet. Not while I am sure you will not reveal that name to anyone, much less the police."

"Why tell us, then?"

"Because,"

A gun fired.

Lightning blasted Dick's leg. He cried out and fell to his knees, searing fire spreading up his leg. He couldn't seem to get his breath.

"Dick!" Bruce's shout was faint through the roaring in his ears. He had to get a handle on the pain!

Deep breaths. Stay calm. Push the pain aside to be dealt with later, just as Bruce taught. Focus on the feel of the carpet.

_Ew. Could use some cleaning._ He thought as the intense pain was swept aside.

"Dick." Bruce was calling him. "Dick, answer me."

"I'm..." Too breathy. A gasp of air, then, "I'll be alright, Bruce."

"Of course," Dernell's tone had become smug. "I had the shot aimed for his leg, after all. Your son won't be walking out of here easily."

Bruce's eyes barely held the anger in check as he snarled. "What do you want?"

"Your fortune, Mr. Wayne. You will transfer the rest of your wealth into the Lenore account." The bank executive sneered. "Or I will shoot your son again and you can watch him die before you."


	2. Damian

A/N: This story is done, just posting a part each day. It's also short.

* * *

><p>Damian parried an imaginary overhead strike. His left slashed through his opponents belly while the right dropped behind his head in ready position. He kicked to his right and behind while his right arm simultaneously struck a head blow. His left arm then followed with another belly slash and stopped in block position beside his waist.<p>

He went on with the continuous flow of movements – one arm going to a ready position while the other moved to a blocking pose and dealing agonizing blows in between. The short swords he used whirled in a deadly dance as his feet occasionally crippled his imaginary opponents with strikes to knees and groins.

He had been taught at an early age that weapons were mere tools and to treat them as though they were extensions of his arms. Damian took that teaching to heart with the handheld weapons and added some of the devastating kicks that he had seen Grayson use. The constant movement of high and low attacks made him that much more formidable to his enemies.

A voice broke through his concentration.

"Where's Dick? And Alfred?"

"I am neither servant nor secretary, Drake." He answered, not pausing in his training.

The older boy huffed. "If you're going to be that way, I'll just look up Dick's tracker then."

"My father took him to confront Wilbur Dernell." He executed a roundhouse kick. He was about to strike the finishing blow but his lunge was interrupted by a loud beeping from the computer.

Drake ran over and swiftly typed in commands. "That's Dick's signal. He's in the First Centennial Savings building."

"My father mentioned going to a bank before they left." Damian stopped and crossed to the computer as well.

He watched Drake pull up a handful of the files his father was working on.

"Wilbur Dernell. Assistant Vice President of First Centennial." The older boy murmured. "Looks like he's been misdirecting Batman Inc funds to an offshore account. Why didn't Oracle find this?"

"You may ask her later," Damian tossed his short swords away. "Grayson is in trouble."


	3. Back to Dick

"For someone in your position," Dernell gloated, "the decision should be easy."

"I'm not inclined to give in to bullies." Bruce's voice still held that eerily calm tone that said he was waiting for a distraction. But with more than half the armed thugs aiming at him, Dick doubted even Batman would be fast enough to avoid getting hit. There was also his injured leg to account for too.

The distraction came when one of the thugs tilted his head and stepped close to whisper something in Dernell's ear.

The bank executive gave a disappointed sigh and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Watch them. Don't let them leave this room alive." Then he turned and walked out. One of Dick's guards followed him.

And the other?

Dick swept his guard's feet out using his good leg. He rolled and twisted to crouch behind Dernell's large desk as thuds sounded behind him. White hot pain shot up his leg and it was all he could do to stay conscious. He had bought them seconds but with six guns shooting at you, those seconds can be eaten up real fast. He had to move!

The thug he took down suddenly rounded the desk. He wouldn't be able to completely dodge that shot-!

A flying thug abruptly collided with the first and both fell.

"Can you stand?" Bruce was standing beside him, hand outstretched.

Dick took the proffered hand. "Not without help, no."

"I'll look at it later. Air vents?"

"Just give me a boost."

Bruce did, and soon the two of them were crawling through the dusty tunnels towards the supply room. It was one of the few rooms they could hole up in, and it was the nearest one they could reach.

Dick fairly crumpled the moment he dropped out of the vent. Fire lanced up to his heart in waves. He couldn't think. He couldn't _breathe_. There was a brief bout of weightlessness as someone carried him but he was too busy just getting in oxygen.

When the fog of pain finally lifted, he found Bruce wrapping a rough 'bandage' over his wound.

"Dick?"

"Can you...imagine how... _cheerful_ Damian's going to be?" Dick said breathlessly. It felt like his leg was tearing open. "_Both_ Batmen being trapped _hnnggh..._and needing rescue by... _one_ Robin?"

"Two," Bruce replied, busy tying the bandage made of Dick's good slacks.

"What?"

"Two. Tim told me he was passing by Gotham today."

Dick fell back with a laugh despite the fire in his leg.

"You need a doctor." His father pronounced gruffly.

"Later. We still need to-"

"No. You're staying put. I won't risk you crippling yourself permanently."

Dick started to form a protest but Bruce's expression told him not to argue. He leaned his head back on the shelves instead. "Damian will be gloating the moment he sees us."

"It's not a rescue."

He blinked at the older man. "It's not?"

"I consider it, 'needing an assist.'"


	4. Back to Damian

Damian snuck in through the window of an unoccupied break room. Drake should be entering through a different route, but _he_ would be making his way to Grayson. Irritation tickled his mind again at how Drake manipulated Robin to rescue Batman while Red Robin went after Dernell.

"You would just beat up everyone and Dernell would be able to erase his trail." Drake had told him. "But I can retrieve everything he's hiding and send him to prison for a long time. And Dick's signal hasn't moved from that spot for ten minutes. He might be injured."

Damian's irritation increased over the last part. It annoyed him whenever he thought of how many times Grayson needed rescuing. In the months they'd spent partnered together, Damian knew that an unmoving Grayson signal meant he was being beaten up, trapped, or was facing overwhelming numbers. The older man was always on the move.

It was closing time for the bank so there were a scant few civilians walking the hallways. It was easy to avoid them since they were all moving for the elevators, eager to get home. The security cameras were all hacked into earlier by Drake.

Two minutes later, he was picking the lock of the room where the signal came from.

He was about to kick the door in to surprise the occupants when it was pulled open.

Ice blue eyes stared at him for a milli-second then he was yanked in.

"Nice to see you, little D." Grayson was leaning against a shelf filled with boxes, his face growing paler by the minute.

"Once again I have to come and save you." Damian declared, crossing his arms over his chest.

He noted Grayson flashing an 'I told you so' look to his father and was about to call him on it when his father demanded, "Where's Tim?"

"Drake went for the Assistant Vice President." He reported and quickly assessed Grayson's capacity to walk. "You will have to be supported."

"I'm not going to argue." The injured man responded, levering himself to a half-stand.

His father looked Damian in the eye and declared, "You watch over Dick. I'm going after Tim." He left before Grayson could offer a protest.

Damian watched him go.

"Uh, a little help here?"

Damian clicked his tongue and moved to act as Grayson's crutch.


	5. End

It was awkward going, of course. With their differences in height, Dick was nearly bent double trying to hobble as fast as he could. He was thankful that finding the other two proved to be easy; all Dick and Damian had to do was follow the trail of unconscious and tied up thugs stashed in out of the way corners. Dick almost felt pity for the guards who were just doing their jobs until he realized these thugs didn't seem like normal security. Not when they would shoot civilians without hesitation.

By the time they found the others in one of the offices, it was clear the fight had ended. Damian was going to be miffed about that.

Tim rushed over to support Dick's other side as soon as they came in while Bruce remained crouching by the limp figure of Wilbur Dernell.

"Poison pellet in his mouth." Tim explained. "Bit down even before all the guards were down."

"Harsh."

"Give me a name," Bruce was demanding, his fists crushing the executive's lapels. "Who owns Lenore Group?"

The man hacked and coughed, "Your efforts...are useless...against us..." He made a gasping noise that was probably a laugh but it was too pitiful a sound. And it echoed in the room's silence.


End file.
